Like an audience
they raised
their Luminous faces
Uniform yellows
In various places
On Hedgerows they lined up
Cheering me on
During the gruelling early months
Of spring
I ran
I progressed
Slowly
They were a constant
A crowd
They marked my road
Either side I huffed past
Blooming banks
Blowing Trumpets
They watched
They grew
Just as I was
To a fighter
I was going further
They were turning to yellow
Flashes

Till spring passed

A graveyard of flowers
Now line the streets
I run past
A stronger
Version of my self
But they wither
And I remember the gruelling months
When they would
Stand
A proud not cowardly yellow
A reminder of how
Quick
These seasons can fade
I look back on the
Beginner
When the daff’s were my only
Supporters
They glowed as I struggled
My standing ovation
Gone now.

With only the chaotic cheers of
Summer
To look forward to.
I miss
The regimented hedges
The whisperings of sunshine
The lines of beaming faces
I’m now on my own
An intermediate
With a newfound
self confidence
That can only carry me further.

Cheers now wait at the finish line.
Birds can’t fill the hedgerows
Daisy’s never stay in line
Except when chained
But I’m not that kind of procession
Butterfly’s are intermittent
And so
The relying relay had lost its
Baton
I’m alone.
Till next spring.

I’ll show them daffodils what a
Fighter I am then
And perhaps my ovation
Will be standing once again.

In a cushion sandwich,
Fleshy meat between two buns.
Sluggish and huggish.
Resting in the comfy,
crack,
of seam and plush.
The girls,
Satin and Cotton can take my weight.
I nestle in their cleavage,
They wrap around my arms,
holding soft,
my lazed limbs.
Squeezed and pressed upon.
Inanimate yet intimate,
They embrace,
I seek.
Never questions asked,
They obey.
I crease their crevasses,
punch their bumps,
Manhandle their lovehandles.
And they adjust,
Submissively,
Unknowingly.